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Be the other one.
The bigger one.
The bolder one. The braver one. You’ve come this far.
The one that calls back, asks on dates, makes the choice, that finishes the milk, that uses the hot water up and that takes the blame.

Be the captain, cook dinner from a microwave box.
Do whatever you want – you can you know, you don’t have to tell everyone that they are ‘looking well’.
Have the last chocolate – the one everyone wanted. Even if its licorice or strawberry cream or out of date…EAT IT.
Draw a moustache on your face for work tomorrow – be the one that taps your pen at meetings. Hurry up. Say sorry. Be the world changes we need, be the closet arranger, the piss-taker, the start over in another country, the ‘fall asleep on the tube till the last stop’.
Refuse to fake tan, don’t wear fluro. Just don’t wear it.
Be the investigator. Pay the bill, accept the predictable, learn an instrument – even if its just the recorder… or £3 harmonica.
Snore. Wear boxers, shower in cold water, change your mind whenever you like.
Don’t dress up at a fancy dress party. Say “Shut-up!” and DO expect it back.
Eat sugar sandwiches and cupcakes and drink someone else’s coffee. It tastes better.

Never say never. “Yes your ass looks fucking huge in that.”
…Sorry about earlier; I was a bit brash. Don’t save cash. Take your top off at the beach. Leave it on in the pubs. Have three. Stay out till dawn.
Say ‘hate’ if you want too. Don’t say ‘random’ (…work on it). Crunch ice.
Own up to having a crush. Its all irrelevant. Say it out loud, search for something more and don’t be afraid to take two steps back. It is in fact two steps closer to where you’re going. Wherever that is.
Change the rules as you go along, draw outside of the lines. Guides get you nowhere. Use ideas, don’t be afraid. Wake up early; there’s decisions to be made.

No misgiving, the fire of dreams getting higher, flames spreading to the bedroom windows, kindling in my soul, a smoldering fire. And down burned a house of doubt, a place of skepticism and realism, all lost to that fire.

Dreams replace doubt, the way spring replaces winter, and winter, autumn. The eye cannot see, what the heart promises.

Dreamers start to dream, and see, not only in black and white, but real, living colors. We see potential and possibility. We are skies without end, wild horses without reins. We are your sister, your brother and your friend. We are the bumbling man in the corner store, the forsaken beggar in the street, the woman in white sitting outside a church, formless beneath her dress. We are in regions of terror, in sprawling forests, on big city cobblestones, through unbroken fields, where grass stands above my summer skinned knees. We walk through this fire, the torches of others, scorching our skin, but never the soul, and with dreams that are akin to the wings of a phoenix bird, we rise from surrounding ashes.

And I go on, wherever it may be, because the future is now mine, and I’m not afraid. I go on, because I believe in better days. And the chances, I will take them.

When I was a girl, they told me to be practical… But I chose to be this dreamer.

Rummaging through a few old photo albums over the Christmas period has got me thinking about where we have come from and how people progressively change in a expedient attempt to search for their true calling, their own choices or dreams and how change itself effects not only an individual, but the entire outlook on your life and where you have come from.

I love that my parents can still look at these photos, laugh and joke about it all together, even though things have changed. Completely.

I spent a small amount of time in my hometown over these holidays and things felt somewhat different.
While it was still the place I grew up, where we would walk down to the Muarry river banks and swim through the reeds or the place where we would spend countless nights laughing in each others backyards, plotting and scheming about random nefarious things;
it – or ‘I’ for that matter, had changed.

I looked around at a familiar setting that felt somewhat detached and hazy to the person I was and had become. I had definitely outgrown the shoes that fit over the years, into something bigger and much more comfortable.
Even though this was a place where I had come from, it’s not me, nor does it define the person I was or the person that I am becoming today.

Looking back at these images makes me smile, makes my family laugh and the stories all start to roll in about ‘the times when’ and the ‘remember how we used to’.
These images are simply fragments of who we were – the past – of a life in making. Yet will continue to be an adventurous story that each of us could never forget.

Tonight I was surrounded by friends that I love. We shared lyrics, heard thoughts and laughed
around candles and colours of maybe…around what ifs and wishes.
I soaked in the warm songs of a tribe.

I know happiness although its not perfect rightness, just a softening for understanding for the way life is going.

This has all happened before us, we came from the past from songs and fire and sideways glances.
We create it all over again,
untied and loose
we travel together
Making it to the next landing point, hands in fists, standing tall;
eyes wide open.

Last week, a friend and I were engaged in a conversation after a long anticipated wait for a table at a new-ish coffee spot in the burbs of Melbourne.
Now, I don’t normally trek that far away to find decent coffee, I know my sources, stick to them and enjoy them as they are. But this time, I was up for a challenge, and could no longer fight the rave reviews of this new little hot spot.

So open mind, empty cup and a sure a 25 minute wait (not necessarily a bad thing), we sat down.

The context was minimal and warming; the staff polite enough and the coffee? Fantastic, fresh and accompanied with swift delivery.

-But-

And there seems to usually be a ‘but’ lately.

The ambience took a plunge; the sound around us seemed to drop to a silent whisper as the waitress abruptly requested for the two women sitting adjacent to leave.

“Can you please clear up your bill and leave, we have got customers waiting for this table and you’ve had it long enough.”

And as she snatched the cash from the unwilling and embarrassed patron, she flicked her neck towards us and said, “We don’t usually ask our customers to leave, its just they’ve been there for 2.5hours on 2 coffees. You know?”

No. I don’t know.

Are we all on a timer here?

Now I have done my fair share of customer service, worked in a few cafes around the city. Never have I seen this form of customer service. I mean, we’ve all seen the soup Nazi on Seinfeld and laughed, but this was just plain ‘real life’ ignominy.

Which draws me back to a point Seth Godin makes about value of customer service:

“If you treat a customer like he’s wrong, he’s going to leave, and probably tell a bunch of other people.”

Calling new businesses.
One irrefutable way to market yourself is by word of mouth.

People trust personal experience. If my friends tell me it was a good coffee, I’ll bank on that, they tell me it was a horrible experience – I won’t waste a minute of my time. And I’ll be sure to pass that on for them as well.

Basic knowledge. These women were offended. Hell, I was offended. And they sure as hell won’t be returning with friends anytime soon.

And for those of you still unsure about the value of customer service?
Please. Do us all a favour and look at this.